Never on the First Date
by Serenitychan13
Summary: The wait-three-days option has passed and Spencer thinks Lorraine never wants to see him again. Leave it to JJ to explain that some girls are just LIKE that. Spencer Reid x OC. Don't like, don't read.
1. JJ Explains It All

**Disclaimer: **_**If you've been reading any of my other fics, you know the drill. If you haven't, here it is: nothing here is mine. Criminal Minds and all its characters are not mine. Dr. Lorraine Quinn is mine. You may use her if and only if you ask me nicely. I like being asked nicely.**_

Never on the First Date

Ch. 1 – JJ Explains It All

For a week after the "Wicked" excursion, Spencer had found himself kept rather busy. The team needed his skills at, from what he could tell, info-vomiting, for a case involving a string of nasty murders In Alexandria proper. Try as he might to keep his mind on his job, he'd found himself slower on the uptake than usual. For a genius, Morgan had remarked, he could be awfully slow. Hotch had also commented that Reid seemed 'distracted.' JJ asked in what she thought was private if something had maybe happened with his mom. Garcia, at that point, had popped in with the wickedest grin Spencer had seen in a long while.

He had a feeling he was going to hate this…

"No, his mom's doing fine – I covered _all _my bases before coming to _this _conclusion…" started the tech analyst, ignoring the pleading look. "Spencer is distracted becaaaaaause…"

Spencer _had _to cut in at that point.

"Penelope, please!" he blurted out, his face purpling as it hadn't in, well, a week at the volume of his voice catching Morgan's attention. He tried to mumble the last part before Morgan could steer over to them. "It's just an issue I haven't quite figured out yet, and it's a little personal, thank you very much!"

He, in fact, had _not _managed to get that out before Morgan made his way over – the larger man leaned on a table.

"So, pretty boy, I don't recall asking before," he began entirely too easily, a knowing light in his eyes. "How'd that date go?"

The genius felt reasonably sure his cheeks were going to bruise before this encounter got itself over with – best to do so as soon as possible.

"Actually, you did ask me," he retorted, the info-vomit coming as a total reflex at this point. "A grand total of forty-three times over the entire week. Would you like a breakdown by day?"

Morgan just laughed out loud and pushed up off the table to take a seat beside Garcia. JJ pulled up a chair as well. Spencer knew they expected the full story, they wanted it _right now_, and he wasn't going anywhere 'til they got it. So, he took a deep breath and attempted to turn his face its normal color. He failed miserably, he could tell from the heat remaining in his cheeks. Miserably, he figured if he just explained himself, they might let it go in a week or two.

"Okay, fine, yes," he told them point-blank, hoping if he stopped acting like sweet, spaced-out Doctor Reid for a bit, they'd drop it.. "I'm a _little _perturbed because Doctor Quinn's behavior on our _date _gave me mixed signals."

Pinching Morgan before he could open his mouth, JJ piped up this time.

"Spence, you're a _profiler_," she said slowly, taking the same tone she had before – like she was speaking to Henry. "How does a woman give _you_ mixed signals?"

The thought was not a new one – he could swear he'd been over it an average of a hundred and twenty-seven times per day each day since the date.

"JJ, can I speak to you in private for a second?" he finally asked, figuring his almost-sister would be the least likely to giggle at him. The blonde got up and preceded him out of the room. Spencer took a deep breath and started out with: "Okay, so…"

JJ cut him off before he could ramble.

"You've been… disgruntled since what I can only assume was the morning after," she said point-blank. "Did something go wrong?"

Spencer shook his head, then ran a hand through his messy hair as he started to pace irritably in front of her.

"No, yes… Well, I thought everything was going fine!" he stammered for a moment and exploded. "I mean… The musical was… interesting, the dessert was a pleasure, I got her home all right and then… well…"

JJ poked his shoulder a couple times, smiling in amiable concern.

"Spence, you can tell me," she told him, making sure not to let him avoid eye contact – he tried. "Whatever it is, I promise."

The prodigy let out a heavy sigh and his sweater-vested shoulders sank.

"… She dodged me," he said simply, looking down at his navy Converses.

This time, JJ looked confused – certainly her _Spencer _couldn't have done anything purposely to offend the young lady!

"What do you mean 'dodged'?" she asked, trying to get clarification as gently as possible. "Did something… happen?"

And… there went his face once more, turning his cheeks so intensely purple that JJ briefly wondered if that might be _painful._

"Well… yes and no," he all but repeated, shuffling his feet. "I… er… I leaned in and I think I was supposed to kiss her good night."

He paused, causing JJ to tilt her head expectantly.

"She ducked and I got her cheek," he finished lamely, attempting to stare a hole through his left shoe.

JJ stared at her almost-brother for a second, trying to figure out if this was some sort of cosmic joke.

"You… got her cheek," she repeated for lack of anything particularly useful to say at the moment.

Spencer made an incredibly pained noise and nodded.

"Well, I think you should give her a call," JJ informed him, causing him to yelp like a stepped-on puppy. "And don't make that noise at me."

Her almost-brother cracked his neck noisily.

"Call her? After a clear indicator of rejection?" he almost demanded, looking at her like she might have a fever or something. "JJ… we deal with the end result of that kind of behavior on a daily basis!"

This time, JJ nearly laughed, but did manage to stop herself.

"Spence… it's seriously not something you did wrong – it's her," she started with that exceptionally slow tone again. At the look on his face, she followed that with "I promise."

Spencer's brow furrowed deeply and he almost pouted.

"So it's not me, it's her?" he deadpanned. "I could swear that's what she's already told me."

JJ rolled her blue eyes and thumped Spencer on the shoulder.

"I mean, some girls – that's just how they are," she explained patiently, wondering how the boy genius missed this. "For whatever reason, they don't kiss on the first date. She was probably just too shy to verbally explain that to you."

Once again, Spencer Reid felt very stupid, for a genius, but he nodded in understanding.

"Could you tell Hotch I stepped out for two seconds?"

JJ smiled at her almost-brother and nodded, going off and taking the peanut gallery with her.


	2. Sheer Bloody Panic

**Disclaimer: **_**Nope, it's still not mine and I'm in no mood to type up some sort of witty disclaimer. You know what? Leave me examples of witty disclaimers in your reviews. If I like it, I'll give you full credit right up here in the disclaimer. As per usual, if you want to use Dr. Lorraine Quinn, ask me nicely.**_

Never on the First Date

Ch. 2 – Sheer Bloody Panic

They had caught the bad guy in Alexandria and returned to HQ within three days. Spencer practically threw the door to his apartment open, in one hell of a foul mood. No, he wasn't mad at JJ – she couldn't help answering a direct question when Hotch asked where he'd gone. But he was furious with Morgan for being so stupidly perceptive. He couldn't remember the last time he'd endured that much ribbing, even if it was good-natured. Could the man just not let anything go for two seconds?

He flopped down on his bed, face-first into his pillow, and kicked off his Converses in two different directions. On the one hand, get Morgan back later – they had an unresolved practical joke war. They caught the unsub in an attempted act and, as Morgan put it, shitcanned him. So that meant they had done their jobs and one more nut job was off the streets. The families of the victims had some closure. On the other hand, Spencer thought, where was his personal closure? Not about the case – he had that, but about Lorraine? He never did manage to actually get her on the phone, just her away message.

What if it did mean she never wanted to see him again?

"Big bad profiler, huh?" he grunted into his pillow.

He finally pushed himself more forcefully than he normally would have up off his bed. His belt went flying, and then there went his trousers. The dress shirt followed his trousers to the growing pile on the floor, then his white T-shirt. He scratched his behind momentarily, contemplating his Captain America briefs. Leaving those on, he skidded across his hardwood floor in his mismatched socks. The kitchen seemed to be calling him, for what he couldn't tell.

"Food, food, food," he mumbled to himself, opening the pantry and wondering what he might actually have the whatsis to crack into. The little red-and-white pop-top can caught his attention perfectly. "And… Spaghetti-O's!"

He grabbed the still-wrapped plastic fork lying on the counter from the last round of Chinese take-out. After popping the tab of the can, he considered actually emptying the can's contents into a bowl. Nah, it just wasn't worth the painstaking two-and-a-half minutes… Plus, that left hot spots because he never remembered to stir the damn things, and then nothing tasted right for days. So he traipsed back to his couch and flopped down to search for the DVD remote.

"Eureka…" he declared matter-of-factly to the empty room at large.

He clicked on the set and the DVD player. Tim Burton's _Vincent_ started playing its intro menu – he'd left it in the player over a week ago. He hit 'play' and the voice of Vincent Price filled the apartment. Mindlessly, he shoveled the cold noodle-y O's and pellet-like meatballs into his mouth with the plastic fork. Every so often, he paused to gulp the sauce like soup. Then, something small and shiny and gray caught his eye. He set his… dinner… down and reached for the cell phone, scrutinizing it as if it had offended him somehow.

Of course, he trusted JJ to give him good advice, but a funny feeling in his gut that had nothing to do with cold, canned pasta overtook him. No matter what, as a profiler or whatever he called himself now, he couldn't shake it. What if he _had _done something to offend Lorraine and she didn't want to hear from him? But then again, what JJ had said did make sense on… some level. Not in any sort of logical sense, any more than most personal choices were logical… He stared harder at the cell phone, almost expecting it to solve the problem.

Oh, he was just giving himself fits – it had been a trying case and Morgan had managed to pick a banjo on his last jangling nerve. Spencer gripped his fork with his teeth for long enough to scratch his head. He zoned out, continuing his brainless noodle-scooping endeavor. Vincent Price's voice was somewhat comforting and he probably should be worried about that. He tossed the cell phone down on the couch beside him and returned to his dinner. The last meatball kept trying to escape him.

"Stupid little piece of…" he grumbled, chasing the lump of meat-like schmutz round the can with the plastic fork. "Damn thing… come on! Jab, jab!"

So engrossed was he in this game of 'mighty hunter' that he almost sent the can flying across the room when the cell phone buzzed against his rear. He did, however, catch himself and set the can down on the table by the couch. It took him a second to remember why he had done so. Then the cellular apparatus rang in earnest, the standard ring tone it had come with. He picked it up with the same hand holding the fork, wedging it between his head and shoulder.

"Doctor Spencer Reid speaking," he told the cell phone automatically.

He waited for the response.

"Oh! Hey, Spencer!" the voice of Dr. Lorraine Quinn chirped almost breathlessly into the phone on the other end. "I just got your missed call and I'm really sorry – I've been super-busy all week. There was a conference and… What are you doing right now? You interested in dinner? I can come pick you up in just a couple minutes!"

For a second, Spencer wondered if the world had all of a sudden just stopped turning – his guts lurched weirdly again. At first, he didn't say anything, almost as if he _couldn't_. He simply stared from the television, which he muted hastily, to the can in his hand, to the fork in the other. His mouth worked silently. But then the sound button turned itself back on and he blurted into the phone:

"Uh, yeah, dinner… Great!"

He could basically _hear_ Lorraine tilting her head at him like she had the day they met – the kind of look that suggested she wondered if he'd hit his head.

"You sure?" she asked, her voice going a touch high-pitched. Then she started shouting. "DAMN MORON, GET OFF MY ROAD!"

As Spencer held the phone at arm's length away from his head, he could hear a strong Southern accent in her angry voice.

"Sorry 'bout that," Lorraine returned happily to the phone.

"No, it's perfectly all right," Spencer cut her off before she could start rambling again, getting a feeling how the team felt round him sometimes. "But yes! Dinner would be great! I'm ready when you are!"

He wondered if that voice sounded as psychotic through the phone as it did to his own ears – he was never terribly good at lying through his teeth. But as Lorraine squealed in delight and asked for his address, his guts twisted. Almost mechanically, he gave her the information and closed his phone. He set the thing back down beside him where it had been. For a long moment, he simply sat on the couch, staring from the can to the fork. Then he got up and drifted rather like a ghost to his kitchen, putting both can and fork in the 'fridge. He stared at the closed door.

Then he let out a combination of a yell and a squawk and dashed to his closet, swearing as he tripped over today's fallen trousers. Things went flying out of his closet as if some sort of mad tornado tossed them. He ended up throwing on a pair of navy blue trousers, but now he couldn't find two shoes that matched. Damn his affinity for Converse Chuck Taylors! It seemed to be mostly left shoes that had gone missing. Maybe nobody would notice that one was purple and the other was yellow plaid? No… not even he could get away with claiming to be that absent-minded. So he continued kicking through the growing pile in the bottom of his closet. Okay, that T-shirt smelled clean…

The knock at the door nearly gave him a heart attack. He threw on the T-shirt, hoping it wasn't one of the offensive ones Morgan had given him as a joke. That man had a truly _weird _sense of humor sometimes. Struggling out of the closet, he just managed to restrain himself from pelting to the door at breakneck speed. With an almost-trembling hand, he reached out for the knob, but thought about it and paused to check the peephole. Oh… It was the lady from downstairs. Maybe she'd jammed her front door again.

"Can I help you, Mrs. Rorstrom?" he asked in what he hoped passed for a calm, even tone of voice.

Apparently, it didn't – Mrs. Rorstrom looked at him like he might be ill, the same look JJ had given him, but more suspicious.

"Spencer," she never bothered with that 'Doctor' business, since she had a son his age. "I heard a lot of noise up here – is everything all right? You don't normally shake my ceiling fan."

Spencer swallowed hard and tried hard not to look totally nonplussed, maybe a touch concerned.

"Oh… Oh, everything's fine, I promise!" he told her, fishing around for an excuse to be making that much noise. She looked expectant, so he offered, "I… was trying to kill a spider. I think I got him!"

He grinned horribly, inwardly groaning that his total inability to fabricate convincingly was going to get him in a load of trouble one day. Mrs. Rorstrom didn't look entirely convinced, but the smile unnerved her more than slightly. She told him to just come on down and knock on her door if he needed anything and to have himself a good night. Spencer thanked her a few more times than necessary and stood there on his front step until she disappeared. Shaking his head, he went back inside to take one more stab at finding matching shoes and a T-shirt that did not read "I Piss Excellence."

The T-shirt found itself crumpled up in a wad and stuffed into a hamper at the back of the closet. Spencer ground his teeth irritably and made a mental note to make Derek Morgan suffer for his bad taste in gag T-shirts. He fished through his closet again, turning the light on this time. He caught a brown blazer slipping off its hanger before it hit the floor and that drew his eye to a purple T-shirt. Checking both sides, he found himself satisfied that it had no writing on it, other than the size tag, anywhere. The garment was on half over his head when he heard, this time, the doorbell.

He yanked the thing on, smacked his elbow on the jamb of the closet door and swore loudly. The abused joint throbbed in protest as he struggled into his jacket then half-strode, half-tripped across his apartment again. This time, he didn't put his hand on the doorknob before checking the peephole. His guts twisted in a way he didn't remember being terribly normal. Swallowing harder than he had in quite a while, he tried to open the door calmly.

"Hi, Spencer!" Lorraine greeted him, catching him in a one-armed hug before he could really do anything about it. "Do you care where we go for dinner?"

Did she realize how difficult she made it for him to answer her? No… he thought, she couldn't possibly know. Thinking for a second, he took the moment to – he thought – discreetly look her up and down. She had that red braid still thrown casually over her shoulder, where it stood out on her white blouse. A high-waist pencil skirt stopped just below her knees. However, Lorraine noticed him looking and struck a quick pose for him, flashing leopard-print liner on the skirt. Spencer, on the other hand, instantly noticed her back-seam stockings. He didn't mind the black velvet heels either…

"Um… Is… How about Italian?" he suggested quickly, trying to keep his face its normal color. He couldn't think of anyone who ever turned down Italian. "There's a smaller place just a few blocks from here. We could walk if you wanted."

Lorraine smiled brilliantly, catching his attention with her bright red lipstick that should have clashed with her hair but somehow didn't.

"I love Italian food!" she told him, checking the time on her cell phone. "If we're doing that, we should probably start walking. Dinner rush and all that…"

Spencer nodded and, oddly, followed Lorraine's gaze down as her voice trailed off – oh damn, she'd noticed his mismatched socks!"

"I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?" she asked, tilting her head at him in the way he just hadn't been able to get off his mind. "If you want to do this again some other…"

"No!" Spencer blurted out too quickly. "I mean… No, that's okay. I haven't eaten dinner and… it's good to see you again."

That made Lorraine blush and all of a sudden she seemed incredibly interested in the little brown cats on his right sock. Spencer smiled genuinely this time, shuffling a bit, and opened the door a bit wider. Lorraine's big green eyes blinked up at him, catching his eye with that same purple liner.

"Would you like to come in for a minute?" he asked her, gesturing at his living room. "I just got back from traveling with the team and I'm… well… having trouble finding my shoes."

Lorraine smiled again, nodded, and stepped inside.

"Do I need to take my shoes off?" she asked, eyeing the carpet.

Spencer shook his head.

"Whatever makes you comfortable," he told her honestly – he didn't care either way. "I'll just… be right back, shall I?"

Lorraine nodded and seated herself on the couch, noting the still-paused _Vincent _on the television – good sign, she told herself! From the other room, which she could only assume to be Spencer's room, she heard… noise. At first, it just sounded like the normal shuffling around trying to find things. Then, she heard a crash and a shout of "Son of a bitch!" Not really sure how to react to that, she decided to remain demurely on the couch and ignore it. In a minute or two, Spencer reappeared. As she looked him up and down, she smiled brightly – she remembered those hysterical shoes from their first date!

"So… shall we?" Spencer asked her, looking a little manic – she decided he made it endearing.


	3. The Talk Over Dinner

**Disclaimer: **_**Hey, reviews equal more funny disclaimers! If you want to use Dr. Lorraine Quinn, please ask me nicely.**_

Never on the First Date

Ch. 3 – The Talk Over Dinner

The walk to the small Italian place, announced by a sign that said "Antonia's," had passed in relative companionable silence. Spencer apologized for the noise and confusion and explained that he had knocked down the closet rail. Lorraine laughed and told him how sorry she was that she hadn't been able to talk to him all week. There had been a conference in Boston and her cell phone didn't get all that great of service in the hotel. The genius accepted this and told her that he understood – he wasn't exactly in the position to talk either.

"You know, I… figure I'd better tell you this," he attempted to broach the subject that had bothering him after the waitress brought them both wine. "I… thought I'd done something wrong."

Lorraine looked immediately worried, tilting her head at him and blinking those big green eyes.

"Did you have a bad time?" she asked, looking afraid of his reaction. "Did you not like _Wicked_?"

This time, Spencer couldn't help but smile – maybe she'd been having a similar train of thought to his own as of recently.

"No, no – it's nothing like that," he reassured her, enjoying watching her eyes light back up and her smile turn shy and hesitant. "In fact… it's… um… it's not you, it's me."

Oh hell… bad move – now she looked ready to cry.

"Oh… Oh! No, that's not how I meant that!" he backtracked, gesturing with one hand and taking a generous sip of wine. "What I meant was… Um… Seriously, I promise it's not you!"

Lorraine started chewing off her lipstick again, her eyes still wide and worried.

"… I thought you'd had a bad time with _me_," Spencer continued, unconsciously making his eyes go a little wider. "I mean… not that… Er… Okay… How do I put this?"

He took a deep breath and a deeper drink – Lorraine looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn't for some reason.

"Honestly… I'd been… sort of looking forward to kissing you good-night," he finally said, grinning from ear to ear before he could even stop himself. By this point, he had conceded the point of his face never normalizing its color. "I guess I should have asked first."

For a second, Lorraine didn't say anything, just stared at him like there was a fish on his head or something equally strange.

"You thought I…? Because…?" Then her face split into a wide, almost teary-eyed smile. "… really?"

This time, they both laughed and indulged in a little more wine. Spencer, who could hold it just fine, felt his cheeks getting warm anyway. Vasodilation had a tendency to do that to a person. Lorraine raised her glass to him and he returned the gesture. They shared another laugh and, for the first in a long time, Spencer felt comfortable holding eye contact. Then the waitress appeared to take their dinner orders…

Even though you had to go a ways to really screw up Italian food, the meal proved outstanding. Seriously, you could blow it pretty badly and everything would still taste all right… For once, Spencer couldn't even name back what he had just eaten, but he could surely repeat his and Lorraine's entire conversation. They had talked about everything from her conference, to musicals, to comparing workers' rights violations to a rat in a Skinner box, to Disney feminism. Maybe she wasn't a child prodigy with an IQ of 187, but Lorraine could certainly hold her own in conversation with several interesting points.

Lorraine herself had visibly brightened since Spencer's admission, and now he couldn't stop himself watching her lips. Normally, considering the things he saw in his job, he would find that mildly disturbing at best. Now, it had become endearing, particularly the way she shot the straw paper from her water at him. She had chewed off basically all her lipstick, but for some reason – maybe the wine – her lips seemed a bit pinker and a lot fuller. Surprisingly enough, she never did catch him staring.

The waitress reappeared with the check and Spencer reached out for it, but Lorraine was quicker this time.

"I asked you, so I've got this," she told him in a tone that said she would hear no arguments – Spencer let her with minimal protest. Then she asked, "Want to get dessert on the way back?"

Something about the spark in her eyes made Spencer say yes.

"But I've got that," he informed her, causing her to giggle endearingly and give him a solid "We'll see."

He rose from his seat and, before she could get up, offered his hand and helped her from her chair. Lorraine giggled again, blushed, but made no protest – in fact, he suspected she not-so-secretly liked it. She didn't let go of his hand as they wove through the tables, thanked Mama Antonia, and exited. The very few stars they could see had started to come out. A beautiful crescent moon smiled down at them like the infamous Cheshire Cat. Lorraine shivered at the crisp fall air and wished she had a jacket.

"Would you like my jacket?" Spencer offered – he'd learned his lesson about asking first, he figured.

Lorraine smiled and squeezed his hand before letting go.

"That'd be great, actually – thanks!" She let him drape the brown blazer around her shoulders, not caring that it didn't go with a black pencil skirt. "I keep forgetting that it gets cold a lot faster up here."

Spencer nodded and reached out to take her hand again, noting that again she seemed almost wistful about. Lorraine looked from their entwined fingers up to the slightly-bemused smiling face. She liked it. And from the looks of things, his pink cheeks and shining brown eyes, he did too. As she took in and let out a contented breath, she smelled baking cake. Spencer had started guiding her over to a small bakery. Cupcakes, cheesecake, and chocolate-dipped fruit greeted them inside the door. Sprinkles and frosting seemed to be everywhere. Lorraine's wide eyes closed as she took a deep, almost ecstatic breath.

"Our special tonight is our plain New York-style cheesecake," said the young lady behind the counter in the pink T-shirt and ponytail. "That's by the slice with your choice of fruit compote toppings, just $4.99."

Both Spencer and Lorraine stared at the fresh, cold cheesecake and silently agreed to go ahead and try that. Spencer advanced first to look over the toppings. Lorraine scooted over to the counter in just such a way that her heel found a loose tile. She nearly turned her ankle, but Spencer caught her.

"We have _got _to stop meeting like this," he teased, cautiously letting his arm stay around her shoulders. "Do you see one you want?"

There went that smile again!

"Strawberry, definitely," Lorraine told him. "What do you want?"

Spencer looked at the different metal bins in contemplation.

"Hmm… I think I'll try peach," he ventured, indicating the bin.

Lorraine's gaze looked a bit faraway for just a moment, like she had just remembered something, but then returned to her normal smile. Spencer noticed, but said nothing. They both gave their orders to the young lady and she rang them up before scooting off to dish those up. Just out of habit, Lorraine did _try _to reach for her purse, but Spencer caught her hand. When she pouted at him, he decided to do something truly spontaneous for once. Before she could pull back, he brought her hand up and kissed the back of it. His big brown eyes begging her not to freak out or laugh at him touched her heart. But the moment got broken by the young lady in the ponytail.

"One peach and one strawberry," she presented the desserts. "You two have a nice evening."

Spencer picked up both plates, indicated a table with a nod of his head, and Lorraine followed. Both of them took a test bite of their respective dessert. Appreciative silence followed this first bite. Lorraine had never found anything quite as comforting as strawberries. She ended up spacing out a moment, fork still in mouth. When she blinked, she noticed Spencer looking at her quite intently. Looking very caught, he returned to his cheesecake with his cheeks the same color as her strawberry compote.

"No, really, what is it?" she pushed at him, nudging him with the toe of her shoe.

He looked caught again.

"Well… I just had a thought," he told her vaguely, smiling at her pouting face. "I promise, I'll tell you later."

Lorraine rolled her eyes and picked up a large, unladylike bite of cheesecake, looking like a chipmunk for a moment.

"Yeah," she groused amiably, licking a spot of strawberry from the corner of her lips. "That's just what guys say when they want to forget about it."

This time, Spencer actually _smirked _at her – Lorraine just raised her eyebrows back at him.

"I have an eidetic memory, Lorraine," he informed her, for once sounding a touch superior. "I don't 'just forget about it'."

At that, she kicked him – not hard – under the table, just enough to make him move his foot, and they both laughed. The cheesecake started to disappear quickly enough, the silence of wonderful dessert settling on them. But then Lorraine began to space out again. Spencer saw, for once, an opportunity to, as they say, get back on top. Carefully, he nudged her under the table with his knee. When she blinked at him in curiosity and a little trepidation, he indicated her remaining cheesecake and the strawberry on top with his eyes. Lorraine pulled the plate away from him and hissed like a cat.

"You know, if I want that strawberry, it's really not all that hard for me to get it," he teased, a laugh on his voice. "Just watch!"

Lorraine protested, holding the fork as though she intended to poke him quite sharply with it.

"Try it and see what happens," she all but threatened.

She didn't even _see _what happened next. At first, she watched Spencer's hand like a hawk, but when he winked at her, her mind went a little blank. She knew he had done _something_, but she couldn't tell what. All she did know was that now he sat across from her with _her _strawberry on his fork. And he looked quite pleased with himself! Lorraine stared in disbelief.

"How did you do that?" she demanded, brandishing her fork a bit like a sword.

Spencer dodged the question, grinning at her.

"Split it with you…" he offered instead, enjoying the way her cheeks turned as red as his for once.

He held it out on his fork, ready to offer her first go at it. Lorraine smiled sweetly, waited until it was in range, and snatched it whole in her teeth! This time Spencer blanched, painfully aware that she had the upper hand again. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Did she expect him to… in public? He sat there with wide, almost terrified eyes as she… Oh damn. Well, there went the strawberry and his opportunity. But she didn't seem to mind, just sat there smiling at him with strawberry juice on her lower lip.

Spencer decided to finish his cheesecake without saying anything – if he opened his mouth again, he'd wind up with a size 12 in it.


	4. Long Walk Home

**Disclaimer: **_**Not mine, don't sue, no flames, just love. Want Lorraine? Ask me.**_

Never on the First Date

Ch. 4 – The Long Road Home

Spencer, for once since he had become a profiler, had no idea how this particular social situation had gone. Was he about to go through another week or however-long of wondering whether he had done something wrong? He and Lorraine had finished their cheesecake in companionable silence. Once more, he helped her from her seat and, again, she did not let go of his hand. She smiled when he held the door open for her. The street lights had finally come on and the sky turned pitch-black.

"That was a lovely dinner," Lorraine informed him as they walked, his jacket once again draped affectionately around her shoulders. "I'd really like to do this again sometime, if that's okay with you."

Looking slightly taken aback, Spencer processed this information for a minute, just long enough to cause Lorraine to look up at him. Before he could answer, he had to pull her close to his side because she almost walked into a post. The two of them laughed again. Lorraine kept looking up at him, almost as if she wanted something. He had an idea of what it might be, but he decided to go an alternate route.

"You know, I'd like that," he smiled and told her in return. "Are you… wanting to make plans now or would you like to arrange something later?"

Lorraine smiled and tapped her chin with one finger, continuing to walk beside him.

"When would you like to?" she demurred, keeping her chin down as she looked up at him. "My schedule is pretty flexible."

Spencer frowned for a moment, not in unhappiness but in contemplation.

"Well, I never really _know _what my schedule is going to be like from one week, even one day to the next," he half-thought out loud, cracking a wry grin. "The worst of humanity isn't exactly a predictable thing most of the time."

Somehow, Lorraine found herself smiling at that.

"I really have no idea how to respond to that!" she laughed, blinking a bit more than she normally did. "Can we maybe plan on next Friday?"

It took a second to go through his schedule in his head, but Spencer found nothing in the next ten days that should prevent him from having a date. He nodded down at Lorraine. She let out a sort of squeaking noise and hugged him very hard around his waist. An '_oof_!' sound escaped him and his arms wound up around her by reflex. This time, he met the smile she looked up at him with, and he helped the both of them right themselves.

"Next Friday…" Spencer started, impulsively tucking a curl of red hair back behind her ear. "Would be great…"

They continued to walk in silence, passing shop fronts and other people. Quite a few people smiled at them. Spencer looked down at Lorraine and saw a thoughtful expression. Something inside him told him to think better of asking her about it at the moment. She caught him looking, as she had a tendency to do, and smiled at him.

"Anything you're particularly interested in doing?" she asked, thinking over things over closer to her they might do. Her expression turned mischievous. "Maybe join Hawkeye and me for a walk?"

Spencer tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, caught himself, and his eyes widened in abject terror. He would never, ever forget his first encounter with that… dog-monster thing. Ducks… He couldn't even look at ducks without feeling panic rise ever so slightly in him. Quick, fish for something – anything! – else that they could do… Hmm… She didn't seem the type for museums and really only tourists went to the Smithsonian. Oh… he had the perfect idea now!

"Lorraine, you like animals, right?" he felt a little stupid asking.

She didn't seem to think the question stupid at all, just smiled brilliantly and nodded with vigor.

"Would you like to plan a trip to the aquarium maybe not Friday, but Saturday?" he asked, hoping she liked the idea. "My supervisor might actually shoot me if I told him I was taking a personal day to go look at fish."

Lorraine laughed out loud at that.

"I'd love to!" Then she looked a bit sad. "I haven't been to any aquarium at all since I moved up here. The one in Tennessee was the greatest thing I'd ever seen when I was a little girl."

Spencer smiled, feeling the sensation of overwhelming info-vomit coming on.

"You know, I'd like to see that place myself one day," he told her. "They have an excellent reputation for their education efforts and breeding programs. Just this year, they were top-rated in guest satisfaction through the country!"

"Eidetic memory… Right," Lorraine giggled, honestly glad he knew so much about her favorite place. "Do you have a favorite fish?"

This time, Spencer tilted his head at her – he could not remember anyone ever asking him that in his life, and he'd been asked some truly crazy things.

"I'm very fond of the coelocanth," he answered truthfully, looking off down the street. "They're the last of the truly lobe-finned fishes, possibly a physiological missing link to all current terrestrial life!"

Instead of looking confused, Lorraine's face brightened.

"I've always found it kind of touching that they're the last of their kind," she said, those unique eyes of hers staring up at him searchingly. Then she looked away. "I wish they could find a way to bring a specimen up alive and keep it safely in an aquarium. I would love to see one in person."

They turned the corner onto Spencer's building's street. He reached out, feeling more comfortable than he had for a while, and took Lorraine's hand again. This seemed to please her, the way her eyes began to shine. Spencer found himself really wanting the next eleven days to go by as fast as they could. Never having been religious, he decided to just… mass-text some deities. It certainly couldn't hurt, having some good weather-karma or something like that. Before they really knew it, they were at the door to his building. Both of them stopped and he looked down at Lorraine, unsure where to go from here.

"You saw me to my door last time," she smiled at him, her tone definitely saying she was going somewhere with this. "I'll see you to yours, if you don't mind…"

Spencer didn't mind at all. He pushed the button on the elevator and Lorraine followed him on, watching him select floor eight. The ride stayed smooth, with no one getting on or off. Under different circumstances, that could have been fun. With the current situation, they simply exchanged awkward, blushing glances, with Lorraine occasionally giggling. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, allowing the two of them to step out smoothly. Touching Lorraine's shoulder, Spencer pointed her the right way down the hall.

"Well, here we are," he said unnecessarily, standing at his own front door and shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Thank you for dinner."

Lorraine blushed deeper than he did, for once.

"It was no big deal," she brushed it off. "Glad I got to see you again – you're fun!"

Fun… Spencer couldn't really recall being called 'fun' before. He looked down to see Lorraine's eyes shining up at him though her chin stayed down. When she caught his eye contact, she broke it and stared at the bows on her shoes. Now… that wouldn't do, Spencer decided, and it was officially _not _their first date. Was he supposed to ask now? The way she kept biting her lower lip told him not to.

"Lorraine?"

And when she looked up at him again, he slid his hand under her chin. Those green eyes with their brown centers widened, then fell closed. Spencer felt his insides twisting like party snakes. His mind went blank and he half-closed his eyes as well – this time, he would not miss. Surely enough, his lips found Lorraine's and she took his free hand in both of hers. He took this as an invitation to firm up his grip just enough to draw a small sound from her. She squeezed his hand and stood on her toes, pushing up to him. At this, he slid his hand up to rest gently on her cheek.

When neither of them could breathe, he pulled back and studied her closely, his eyes very guarded. He waited for her to tell him he had done something wrong, or get angry. For a moment, Lorraine just panted softly, not letting go of his hand and leaning into his touch on her cheek. Her eyes stayed closed for a long moment, but when they opened, she smiled so warmly at him… This time, she leaned up and kissed his cheek in return.

"Did I do it right this time?" asked Spencer, grinning because he knew the answer.

Lorraine leaned up and kissed him again.

"Now you owe me one," she teased.


End file.
